


Goodnight, Lil' Man

by FatesLastWhisper



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Bad Parenting, Cutting, Fuck ton of emotions, How do tag?, I think I made my friend cry when I told them the plot line, Massive feels, References to Suicide, Sadstuck, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, all the feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatesLastWhisper/pseuds/FatesLastWhisper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS!!!<br/>Dave is left alone a lot in his teenage years. Bro is always busy with something. Work never stops for birthdays, holidays, hardship, depression... One day, Bro comes home to find Dave somewhere he never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why Should I Care?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was edited by Casil_Strider

"Yo, Bro?" Dave came home from school to an empty house. It wasn't unusual. Bro was never home. He was always out doing something or someone. Work always took first priority. Dave knows why he worked so much.

"I do it for you, So you will have a better life. So you can eat every night." Bro's voice rang in Dave’s mind. Of course it all was for Dave's benefit. He always said that. “Strifes, were to make you stronger and so you could handle yourself in any situation.” No matter what, Bro always wrote it off as it being in his best interest.

The blonde tossed his bag on the futon. "Home alone, again." He flipped on the TV and stared blankly. If Bro wasn't home, who was there to make him do homework? Granted his grades were on the fast track to failure, but he didn't care. Dave stopped caring about a lot of things.  
John was one of the few people he talked to. Mostly because his dweebness was a distraction, but once again he didn't care. His phone vibrated in his pocket, one new text message. Dave opened it up to find that none other than the king of dorks has requested his company in half an hour. Now he had a hefty decision. Hang with John, or wait for Bro to come home? Without another second of though he jumped up and headed to his room to change and grab a few items.

John only lived a few blocks away now. After getting worried about him being alone so much, he convinced his dad to make the move. Dave was always welcomed with cakes and other deserts that he always took. Not that he was obligated to, he just felt it was a nice gesture.

Once the boys were John's room, Dave was assaulted with questions.

"How are you holding up?"  
"He wasn't home was he?"   
"Why do you even stay there?"  
"Should I get my dad to call child services?"   
"Why do even put up with it?"

John was only being a concerned friend, but each question hit a special nerve. He didn't want to get Bro in trouble. Even if the guy was never around, Dave still cared about him. Hopefully, Bro felt the same.  
"Dude, just drop it. Let play some games or some shit." He grabbed a controller and plopped down on the edge of the bed. He was trained well enough to keep those emotions bottled up. He hide it all so deep down that no one, not even his best friend, could ever find it.

After a few hours, John's dad ushered the boys downstairs for dinner. Normally, Dave didn't stay. Mumbling a quick, "He texted me saying he's home" before running out the door knowing full well, he wasn't home yet.  
To Dave's surprise Bro was actually there; passed out on the futon, but still there.

"Bro? What did you bring home to eat?" He didn't see anything out on the counter.

"Chinese. It's in the fridge." Bro wasn't a deep sleeper. No Strider was a deep sleeper. He got up and headed to his room. "D'you get your school shit done?"

"No." Dave pulled out the box of rice, opened it and started eating.

"You should. Don't want you failing out of high school." With that, he closed his bedroom door.

Dave sat in silence a few minutes. John’s questions running through his mind. Why did he stay here? John made it pretty clear that he could stay there if things got bad. What held him here? Bro was never around when he needed him. Bro wasn't around when Jade broke up with him, or Terezi, or Vriska. He wasn't there for birthdays. Dave spent those nights by himself. Sometimes he'd take a long shower and just cry. Sometimes he'd curl up in bed and sleep until the feelings went away. Christmas consisted of a small note from Bro saying, "Sorry Lil'Man, got called in. Maybe next year."

Dave wasn't sure when things stopped being ironic, and stated being sad. The line was erased and there was no turning back. He stopped staying so long with John. The questions hurt too much. Crying didn't elevate the pressure building up in him anymore. He had heard stories of kids who cut themselves to escape the pain. He wanted to try it, but he was scared to try. He was afraid he'd cut himself to deep or that Bro would see the blood.

After a few months he stopped caring. He stopped worrying. Dave took a small throwing knife and nicked his wrist. It wasn't enough to draw blood, but it was enough to send a wave of pain through arm.  
Over the course of a month, the shallow nicks became scraps. The scraps evolved into slices. The young Strider was drowning in the black pool of depression and no one was there to save him.


	2. Do They Hear?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Referance to "To This Day" by Shane Koyczan. 
> 
> Dave thinks about the situation. Sometimes thinking about the problem only makes it worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was edited by Casil_Strider

"We weren’t the only kids who grew up this way.  
To this day,  
Kids are still being called names.  
The classics were  
'Hey stupid'  
'Hey spaz'  
Seems like each school has an arsenal of names.  
Getting updated every year.  
And if a kid breaks in a school,  
And no one around chooses to hear,  
Do they make a sound?  
Are they just the background noise?  
Of a soundtrack stuck on repeat  
When people say things like  
Kids can be cruel?"

Dave had been sitting in his room listening to the poem over and over. The same part tearing him apart, "Do they make a sound?" If he was to show people how hurt he truly is, would it even matter? Who would even care? John barley spoke to him anymore. All his so called friends had left. He was alone. Granted, he wasn't bullied. No one ever called him names. No one ever tried to hit him. Hell, to be perfectly honest, he had it pretty easy at school. Minus the lack of friends, he was still okay in that department. He kept his face straight, head held high, not showing the flood of emotion behind his eyes.

Three months. That's all it took for Dave to slip into the habit of going home and grabbing the knife. Even if he wasn't sad, he'd prick his skin. It felt good. The physical pain dulled the emotions that burned inside.

One day, Bro came home early. Dave was in the bathroom with his blade. Leave it to Bro to figure out in minutes that the knife is missing. Instead of slamming the door open and taking away the blade, he didn't do anything about it. Bro thought he should let Dave figure things out on his own. He did write a small note, however. A simple, "I know. I'm sorry." The older Strider took a star and pinned it to Dave's door. It was saddening to think that his little brother felt the need to do that over his absence. But if he didn't work, there was no way the state would let him keep Dave. They had a tight budget as is, and the Government kept close tabs on him. One wrong move and child services would be knocking on the door. With a sigh, he went to his room and typed up an email to one of his bosses. He just couldn't be gone like this anymore. Dave really did need him.

When Dave felt sated enough, he cleaned the floor. He was still worried Bro would find out. He didn't want anyone to know he did that to himself. Once summer hit, he saved his wrists and traded them in favor of his thigh. The faint scars on his arms faded into nothing while the fresh wounds on his thighs blossomed.

Once he was all clean, he quietly padded to his room. The note on his door stopped him dead in his tacks.

Bro knew.   
Game over.

It was the final straw. He knew yet he didn't do anything? He knew about the pain yet did nothing to help? Did he even really care? Was his apology even worth anything? Dave slammed his door. The thoughts only grew in the following silence. 'Does anyone care?' 'Who would even miss me if I were gone?' Strike one.

He fell asleep with tears in his eyes and a hollow feeling in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People are reading my thing!!  
> Give me feedback I need to know things about my thing!


	3. Broken Records

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realization hurts more than actually breaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited by Casil_Strider.  
> I have two editors cause I like having two people's opinion on things.

The next morning, Dave woke up to sun pouring through his window. Hadn't he closed that? Last night was a blur. Faint memories of his blade and a piece of paper, the paper that was in his hand. "I know. I'm sorry." It brought fresh tears. How could he know and not do anything about it? It made his heart sink lower. If Bro didn't care, who else would?

 

Bro's boss wasn't in a good mood when he showed up for work. The man sure knew how to hide it though. "Mr. Strider, what is the cause of this? You've worked for me almost 10 years! You and Jake are my star employees. Come on please don't quit on me."

"My kid brother needs me home more. He's going through some hard shit and I'm not there to help him." At least he had a good reason for leaving. He had put a lot of time and money into the company. Hell, if anything making this happen was one of his greatest achievements in life. However, Dave was much more important. There would be other jobs along the way. He would never get another Dave. Nothing was worth losing him. "All I can do is give my two weeks’ notice. When things get better, I'll try to come back here. You have my word, Sir. Dave needs me now, and he's more important."

"Fine, You break the news to Jake. Seeing as how he's got to find himself a new partner for the time being because you're leaving, you ought to be the one to tell him. I expect you act as you always have in the coming weeks. Don't leave a sour taste and upon your return the job is yours again."

 

Back in the apartment, Dave still laid in bed. The tears had dried on his face. In the solitude of his room, his scars revealed the tale. A tragedy of a lonely boy, a lonely boy who only wanted someone to care. Lost in a world where he is invisible under a charade of ice cool sarcasm. Somewhere under the layers of "Yeah, I'm chill" or "It's just a scratch" is a shattered soul.

Broken.   
Dave 'the cool kid' Strider was broken.   
To top it all off, no one was there to pick up the pieces once they fell.


	4. Surprise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 3rd come a little to fast this year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Update* I added to this chapter cause I felt what I wrote fit in better here. And I know its been way way longer than two months. More like a year.... I'm terribly sorry. From now on, I should be able to post a little more frequently. Yay for libraby computers! Anyway, more chapters to come.

It's been two days and Bro still was scarce. Dave's escapades with the blade occurred more and more. He didn't bother cleaning up as well. Sometimes, there would be small drops left on the sink, the floor, sometimes in the tub. He stopped hiding his blades. If Bro really cared he would take them and make it so he couldn't do it anymore.   
He sat in the tub letting the water run over the old scars on his thighs. The crisscross railroad that shapes his shattering form stood out. The scars looked darker in comparison to the rest of him.   
Normally, when Striders take baths they have candles, nice smelling things, and bubbles... All the works. But, Dave wasn't normal anymore. Instead he had his knife, razor blade, and red stained wash rag.   
The blade carved sweet roads in his skin. The bit of razor dulled any emotional pain. Such a sweet release. He let the blood dip into the water. It swirled red. It was truly a beautiful sight. If it wasn't so socially unacceptable, Dave might have snapped a few shots for his blog. The relief was short lived, however.   
The phone on the sink sounded. Shit. It was John. Back to pretending. “Sup?"   
"Come over for dinner. Please? Dad made something special just for today.”  
What was special about today? It was still late November. Christmas was still a while off and the Thanksgiving left over we're gone. What could possibly be going on today.  
"Come on, Dave! You seriously forgot? I know you're not totally you rot now, but really?? How could you forget your own birthday?"   
It was December already? December third? Really. He was silent. He forgot his own birthday in all this mess. Today he turned 17. One year away from being legally responsible for himself.   
“ I've been a little busy." It wasn't a complete lie.  
"I'm coming over. I know he isn't there, so don't try to give me an excuse."   
“Give me bout half an hour."  
Dave didn't wait for a reply. He hung up the phone and dropped it on the rug. He sat in the tub for a little while longer. John was his best friend and all, but it was still hard for him to pull himself up and face the world. Cutting took some of the edge off, it didn’t make everything disappear like it used to.   
With a sigh, he grabbed his towel and began the painful process of getting dressed. No matter what he wore, the fabric would irritate the fresh wounds. Then again, it might be good. Maybe that’s the key to making it all go away.  
An hour and a half later, Dave was walking out the door. His pocket buzzed a few reminders. John would not allow him to wallow today. He tried to pull a stoic expression to appease him. John always knew when he was faking a smile. Right now, Dave really didn’t want to come clean. Right now was supposed to be his day with his brother. The day they were supposed to hang out and do dorky things. Today was supposed to be filled with impromptu water gun fights and takeout. Today was supposed to be the day he finally got to “I don’t HAVE to listen to you now”. But right now, everything’s wrong. He’s got fresh cuts and a sour mood. No amount of cake that Mr. Egbert plans to shove down his throat will change that. It just isn’t the same without him.   
John opens the door with a huge lopsided grin. “I know you just wanna be alone and cry like the big baby you are, but today is when you become a man!” Leave it to John to hit the nail on the head. “Plus I have a surprise for you. You know, since you took so long getting here, I might just make you wait.” He pulled his lip in between his teeth. “Naw, I’m really wanting you to see this. Come on. It’s out back.” The dark haired boy grabbed Dave’s hand and let him through the house. It wasn’t really necessary, but he didn’t mind. As long as John’s hand didn’t touch his arm, it was okay. “Just don’t freak out or anything. I know I’m the best person alive right now, but seriously, I don’t even want to imagine you all fan girly on me.” He opened the back door to reveal an enormous cake. Not just any cake, but the kind strippers normally pop out of.   
“Dude, please tell me there aren’t any naked girls in there.”   
“No girls in the cake. I think Dad was going to actually put girls in it, but then thought about how it would make it inedible. No one wants to eat sweaty girl cake." He chuckled. “Honestly though, that thing took forever to make. We had to do individual squares and then piece it all together. Don’t even start me on icing. You know how dad doesn’t approve of anything out of a box or container…” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, this isn’t even your present.”   
Dave loved how John never shut up. It made it so easy for him. Never having to respond, only having to give slight nods or grunts was great. He followed the other silently. Curiosity had him now. What could John have gotten him?   
“So…. Close your eyes. Take off the stupid shades so I know you have them closed too.” John had a shit eating grin. This was not going to end well for him and he knew it. Dave backed away slowly.   
“What are you planning, Egbert?”   
“Just do it.”   
“Fine, but I swear if you do something stupid I’m going to kick your ass.” He slowly took of his shades and went to set them on the ground.   
“Better just give those to me.” John took them and set them on a nearby table along with his own. “I’m even taking mine off. Now we are even. The light bothers your eyes and I’m nearly blind. Now close your eyes.”   
Dave did as he was told. John knew better than to do anything stupid to him. At least that’s what he thought before a balloon slapped his face exploding and spilling its liquid contents all over the top of his shirt. His eyes snapped open. “What the hell?” John was doubled over laughing.   
“Oh my god, I wish I’d been able to see your face clearer, but holy crap that was great!” He was wheezing more laughter when Dave found the source and pounded John with a few of his own watery bombs.


End file.
